Dalibor is a semi-canon Dragonriders of Pern site. No knowledge of the series or site is required to join; players of all experience levels are welcome here. Founded in 2008 on Proboards and moved to Jcink in 2013, Dalibor has been running for nine years.

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Autumn, 18th Turn, 11th Pass

Upcoming Flights/Runs:

Upcoming Hatchings:Copper LaanasuthCopper Zelsk

With two clutches hardening on the Hatching Sands the big question seemed to be: which will hatch first?

The answer came in short order with Copper Zelsk's clutch breaking shell moments before Copper Laanasuth's. With so many eggs surely the dual hatching offers hope to the numerous Candidates who fill Dalibor's ranks. Only time will show who will come away with a lifemate of their very own...

Dalibor was created by Bre, continued by Cathaline, and is now owned and operated by Ruin. Most of the information, rules, and graphics were made, compiled, or written by staff with credit given to those whose resources they used. Stock thanks to credited parties. All characters and posts are copyrighted to the members of the game. No material from this site should be copied in any way, shape, or form without utter express permission from the members and staff. All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's 'Dragonrider of Pern' series are copyright Anne McCaffrey 1967-2017, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with general permission for non-commercial purposes without monetary gain.

Little ones, little...flakes of snow...little white-robes waiting. It's time, it's time work now! Time to do lovely things, and make lovely things, and do all the things you haven't done all winter because it was sooo coooold and your bones hurt and your fingers hurt and now....now the air is warm and you have no more excuses

Rivath had squeeeezed herself into the Barracks. It took very little squeezing in actuality, just the pressure of her wings tucking tight around her slender frame, and then she was skittering up and down the hallways nudging the hangings aside from each and every door as she interrupted the Candidates at work or play with her swirling rainbow spangled facets. Maybe her reputation preceded her, maybe it didn't, but she went into this experience as innocent as the day she had broken shell--and just as inquisitive. Her mindvoice was clear, and firm, and she tried to make it just as tender as Ulian tried to make their voice when speaking to the lost lonely things that came to visit them. She had been the reason they had applied for this position, and she wasn't going to let them down.

Today is a day of washing away all the grime. Your grime, my grime, our grime. Even the grime you can't see can almost taste that sticks between your toes when you go places you shouldn't. That grime up and down the female corridor, up and down the male corridor. She wouldn't stop, and could not be dissuaded. Any Candidate found nestled in their bedding was uprooted with her snout, any found lollygagging were corrected with a bright flash of crimson and a chipper pointy smile. First the white-robes clean out their rooms throw back the shutters beat out and exchange their bedding. Organize chests. Wash clothes, wash selves, and then finally you will come outside and wash me, and there you will learn dragon cleaning and anatomy. And then...

The little dragon paused in the common room, sitting down on her haunches and coiling her long tail around her slender limbs. Chores of course. I will be in to check on you, my little white robes For now, she seemed to be Riderless. Ulian was sitting in one of the nearby offices, but had hardly made themselves at home: They did, after-all, have their own office within the Infirmary where they had been plenty happy for many turns now. Rivath would always be near the Candidates now. She'd found something to pour her boundless energy into, a series of never-ending people who were both malleable and somewhat endearingly gullible. So she would harry them, and encourage them, and--with luck--teach them something useful about difficult dragons and the future the Candidate's faced.

Xavinyra already had a handful of muzzle when another white one invaded her personal space. She had been preparing herself and her two pets for the cleaning after Rivath started announcing their newest assignment. Pounce immediately jumped up from his position on Xavinyra's paperwork on the desk and slid beneath the bunks while Belior stopped her demands for attention and instead sniffed in the White's direction. Xavinyra, for her part, gave Rivath a polite nod, scowling at the invasion of her space. She had quite enjoyed having a room to herself, thank you very much, and so the intrusion was not well received. Still, one couldn't tell off a Candidate Master's Dragon, no matter how rankled one got.

The beastcrafter pointed to the corner further from her personal belongings, commanding her Icehowler to stay. It wasn't exactly a difficult command, considering one of Belior's current favorite leather chew toys was sitting over there. With that taken care of, Xavinyra stared at the bunks, grumbling when she came to the assumed conclusion that the unused bunk would need to be changed over, too.

Still muttering under her breath about twice the work and half the recognition, probably. At least her indignation gave her the energy to get her chores going as quickly as possible, stripping both beds of sheets, pillows, and furs, throwing the lot through her curtained door and into the hall beyond. At least she was right next to the linen closet so getting new bedding would be quick and easy. Xavinyra kicked her pile into something a bit more reasonable, then quickly turned to get to the clean linens.

Apparently their new candidatemaster thought they were all disorganized slobs.

While he could not attest to the habits of others (save for his roommate), Xialas himself was an exceptional tidy person. Why would one let the cleaning be left to the spring? Who just sat in dust and filth because it was cold? The apprentice healer wanted to scoff at the assumption. Only his respect for the Master Mindhealer and their status kept him from making a snide remark. What could he gain by bickering with them and their partner? Speaking of whom...

He crossed his arms as Rivath invaded his room. The white was less admired by the candidate than her bonded. Rumors being that they were (and their status as bonded to a Healer) meant that he heard stories around the Infirmary. When he did menial chores for Journeymen and Masters for the privilege of learning all they had to offer, sometimes, he learned about the affairs of the weyr from before he arrived. If what he heard was true, this dragon wasn't quite right in the head. He knew for certain that her eyes flashed red a little too often for comfort.

"The chores you mentioned have either been done today or within the last sevenday, Candidatemaster. Save for bathing your hide as you request," Xialas informed the white in a calm, respectful voice. He could only assume the white would not react badly to being directly addressed given how she was speaking right to them. "Cleanliness is something I do not make a habit of neglecting." He even bathed that morning and his hair was still damp. Early rising and late to bed was the only way he did all that he needed to do done in a day. Balancing Candidacy and his duties as an apprentice were taxing. But it would be worth it in the end.

He uncrossed his arms and went to the shutters, throwing them open, "Though I cannot speak for my roommate and his state."

Inali was already up and about, but the presence of a white while she pulled her tunic over her head was shocking to say the least. Nothing quite like a dragon nose to make sure you're awake! She kept her things mostly neat, but that didn't mean grime didn't accumulate. Dust was always an issue and with everything being bolted down for winter, it was probably worse than normal.

"Cleaning it is," she pulled her tunic down and turned to her roommate, a girl she hadn't had much interaction with, mostly because she showed up in her room to sleep and little else. "It will go faster if we team up." She studied Korrzalia with judgemental eyes, though she really had nothing against the girl... Yet.

Havenrute had a pair of roommates. Something that kind of intimidated him, but most things intimidated the quiet boy. For all of his size, he kept his head down and tried to stay out of the way. But when it came to a deep clean, he was your man! Well, that and the fact that he was nearly double the youngest roommate's age.

Offering them a small smile, he rubbed his hands together. "I can shove everything into the middle of the room if you want to sweep?" It came out as a question as opposed to the earnest offer he meant it to be.

Caliska groaned and rolled over, throwing an arm over her face as she was roused from sleep by the voice of a new dragon. No, the new Candidatemaster's dragon. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, sitting up slowly while being sure to duck so she didn't bash her head on the ceiling. Again. Her roommate had preferred the bottom bunk the day Basiliare was moved into her room, for whatever reason. Cali had already claimed the top one anyway, so it wasn't like that had mattered too much.

She reached over the edge of her bed and opened the shutters, allowing light to flood the room. She tossed her feet over the edge of the ladder and, as requested by the dragon that was going around sticking her head into their rooms--quite literally--collected her bedding and tossed it on the floor to be swapped with clean things later. The light woke her hound, Kenai, who was curled up in the corner on his own pile of furs. He yawned and stretched his forelegs, then got to his feet and looked up at Cali, tilting his head to one side in a silent question. She raised an eyebrow at him in response, then climbed down the ladder. Despite the air warming, the floor was still cold. She quickly changed out of her sleepwear and into an outfit that may have been considered a bit ragged for normal use, but was perfect for a day of hard cleaning.

"I get the cleaning bit, but why do the wher candidates need to be awake for dragon anatomy?" she muttered to her roommate. "I guess it makes sense to have everyone cleaning at once, but couldn't they make it convenient for all of us, instead of just them?" Needless to say, she didn't like getting woken up so early for a simple thing like cleaning. It wasn't like their room was particularly messy or anything. "Since he's awake, I'm going to take him out before we get into any serious cleaning," she said in a louder voice. "Kenai, heel." His claws clacked softly on the stone as he walked to Caliska's left side, and he followed her dutifully down the hall and around anyone who might have been out of their rooms already. She did, however, stick her head into the currently occupied office.

"Candidatemaster, I'm just takin' my hound out for a bit now that he's awake," she explained before leaving through the building's main door. Better to let him relieve himself now, so he could relax in his corner while they cleaned, rather than having to stop and take him out later.

Ulian wasn't Al'dr. While Kyzekeidon didn't expect favoritism in any measure, the proverbial evil he knew was better than the one he didn't. Rivath came with a reputation, one that left Z'dyn's eldest spawn less than thrilled about the proverbial changing of the guard. Couple that with his Grand-Uncle's departure, and what he could read as having happened on his father's face, well....it wasn't a favorable standpoint to the young man in any regard. The fourteen-turn-old was less than pleased, but he also knew that it didn't matter if he liked it or not.

The other option was dropping the program entirely, and he wasn't about to sell off his family history so easily, regardless of how many Impressions to the Stands there'd been lately over the course of the last several turns. He guaranteed nothing. All that was guaranteed, is that he'd Stand until dragons would no longer find him suitable, and then he'd probably find some sort of other work to undertake. Probably drudgework, or look to Journeyman if he really felt the draw.

Frankly, he'd only undertaken his current path because he loved guitar. It was a pleasure, one of very few, that he ever afforded himself.

He had his father's work ethic; chores had already been done as it pertained to those with his name, and he was no slouch when it came to keeping his room clean. Rust was stretched out on His' bed, the pup off in dreamland, chasing wherries across an endless field while Ky worked on brushing out the immense lengths of his hair. He didn't keep lots of possessions by default - also like his father, he kept a very minimalistic lifestyle. No clutter, no mess, proud of his state of kemptness.

The invasive nose, however, was warned away if it got too close to his personal space. The room? Fine. His face, or touching him? Not so much. His father, and his family, Jubilee, and Rust had the birthright by virtue of being his or being related to him. A bit-larger-than-person-sized White? Not so much.

He shot her a glare, but nevertheless got up with a shake of his head and began to do as he was told. The rest of his Candidacy was going to be entertaining, at least.

Aurora, too, was already up, working over her collection of completed items to barter for fresh ore at the next Gather, or pretty things she wanted. Rivath's invasive head was answered with a lifted hand; not to push it away, but to scratch her eye ridges if the White allowed. Aurora didn't mind her. She was eccentric, like many Aur had come to encounter in the Weyr, and she knew the newfound Candidatemaster came with large shoes to fill. The High Reaches transplant's job wasn't to make it any harder, and once she'd put her things away, she sorted out changing out her bedding at least insofar as putting the dirty stuff in the bag, and put the clean ones on top of her dusted-off dresser in order to pull the mattress out and beat the dust out of it, as she and the others were told.

She did her best to help some of the 'weaker' Candidates; after all, it was a little hard for some of the younger kids to be able to do that kind of work, and after she'd finished, she waited until most of them wore out to help them out. After all, she didn't doubt there would be inspections from the Sport-Candidatemaster for everything when they were done with that part.

Another day of chores, another day of lessons, another day that hopefully carried them all closer to the endgame - a dragon and a new life.

Embry was fairly used to being ordered around at this point, so the whites intrusion was met with a cool stare. If the dog-sized creature wanted to play Queen, who were they to dash her dreams? Snorting in reply as Rivath stormed everyone's rooms, it was Xialas that earned the young mans ire. "Now who needs to shut up?" he replied sharply, working first on gathering the linens on his side of the room. He had already bathed late last night--when everyone else was sleeping. Not exactly one for communal bathing, Embry often waited until he had the pools to himself. A titch sensitive about other people seeing him naked, the young man was not about to oblige for the sake of the white. If she didn't believe him, then that was her problem. "Only thing that needs washing here is sheets and clothes. End of story," he snapped.

While he had heard about the whites unpredictability, he didn't really care. The last Candidatemaster had done little to earn his respect, though he had to admit that he'd heard far better things about Al'dr and Fortath in comparison. He'd had precisely one or two conversations with the bluerider, one of which had more or less convinced him to remain Standing. The change in leadership, as far as the candidates went, was semi-confusing. Even so, it was none of his business. Lessons would carry on as usual, as would chores. His late night excursions would also carry on, same as always. No one could force him to sleep when he was over the age of ten.

Once the boy had gathered his sheets into a tight ball, wrapping his clothes in them as well, he moved over to a bucket of water nearest the far wall. He had filled it this morning so that he could splash cool water on his face. Scrub sand was always hand, mostly because he secretly had a fear of germs. Vigorous about personal care-not that he ever told anyone-Embry got to washing the requested items.

With any luck, he would impress at next hatch. He was tired of thinking about it, seeing as no one knew when another clutching female would fly. If the greens clutched, then there would be little to no issue. Greens flew all of the time--flighty creatures that they were. At the very least, he was learning at Dalibor. He had repeated some lessons, sure, but being around dragons garnered one inevitable knowledge. He'd had some misconceptions about both dragons, and their kin, that was quickly remedied within his first turn of being at Dalibor.

--

Morrigan tended to be an early riser. Not enough day and not enough her to go around. The new Candidatemaster was hardly her concern, though she had to admit her curiosity was peaked. Being the sort to gather information, she'd heard a fair bit about Ulian and their white. Rivath had made quite a scene on more than one occasion, but did it really concern her? Not really. She had gone through countless Candidatemasters in her ten turns of candidacy. She had two turns left to go before she was kicked-out of the program, which would then see her a free woman. She wanted a dragon, there was no denying that fact, but if it wasn't in the fates than she would find something else to do with her life.

Wordlessly, the tall woman got to work. The whites close proximity had her doing little more than yawning. "Not tired," she assured the smaller dragon. There was a mischievous smirk that played across her lips as she finished gathering up the laundry. Cleaning was somewhat tedious, but she couldn't say that she wasn't used to it. She had been cleaning up after herself since she was five. On the whole, Morrigan was hardly the candidate that Rivath had to worry about. What she chose to do in her private-time didn't concern the new Candidatemaster, or anyone else for that matter. She skirted the line between what was acceptable, and what wasn't, and such was simply the way that the smuggler would always live her life.

It had never been an issue before now. The warning she'd received from Al'dr hadn't caused her to so much as bat an eye. She had not been his charge when her "offense" was communicated, so there. Since then, Ruane had been busy with her burgundy dragonet. Emath had grown quickly, and Morrigan could only hope that the burgundy and his rider learned from one another. They had a ways to go, but Morrigan was fairly sure they'd soon have a handle on things. Ruane was stronger than she let on.

ooc: Feel free to continue cleaning RP, this is to give everyone another step to the lesson once they reach that point!

Rivath waited for as long as it took the Candidates to finish their cleaning. She didn't even bother checking, not really. i can tell she whispered into their minds. She had allowed pats and rubs when offered, she'd allowed sour words and typical...what did they call them? Teenager angst and orneriness when that was offered instead of pats. She preferred pats. She had been warned by Ulian that little humans did not appreciate being bossed about because they thought they were big enough to be in charge of themselves. She remembered feeling like that, so she could relate. And what had happened when she had felt in charge of herself? She'd mauled and maimed and...well murdered. She couldn't let the little white-robes murder, Ulian had been very clear about that.

Murder was right out.

When they'd finished she squeezed herself back out the door and danced down to the lake where Ulian had made ready all manner of brushes and bowls of soaping sand, and oil vials and rags. She snorted delicately while falling in beside her Rider and followed their mental directive to spread out her tail and lift up her wings away from her flanks so the gathering children could get a good look. And touch. Or whatever. Ulian reminded her not to get nippy, even if she wanted to 'groom' them back--they weren't dragons. Like she could forget that. They gave her slender neck a pat and turned to face their new charges.

They were dressed somewhat sensibly, for once, having set aside the flowing robe-like dress for clothing that--while not distinguishable from skirt or pants, at least did not drag the ground. Their hair was braided up much like the set of knots that graced each shoulder, one newer than the other and both distinctive in their configuration and golden tassels. "Candidates. You are a commodity, an important resource. Some of you want to be here, some of you do not, and a few of you have passed between the hands of many Candidatemasters during your time as a robe-wearer. My name is Ulian, and this is Rivath, and we were both trouble in our own way to our own 'Master. I am not here to treat you like a resource."

"You have, each of you, accepted a dangerous assignment. To Impress a dragon, or wher, that could accidentally murder you in the process, as well as give up all of your basic rights and pleasures throughout the duration of your stay in the program. You can understand why the Weyr favours Dragonriders and Wherhandlers as Candidatemasters; they have the best chance of telling you why suffering is the logical choice. We can do you one better. You will see a difficult dragon, you will get to know her as she gets to know you, and you will come to understand her past and be part of her future. More than that, you will see what can happen with an unexpected Impression to an atypical partner. You will have to trust me, that you are safe near her, in the same way that you will have to trust each other: Now as Candidates, later as Weyrlings or Wherlings, and later than that as Wingriders or Priderunners."

Rivath hadn't moved, save for the swirl of rainbows in her eyes, and she remained still as Ulian continued. "You are stripped of privilege so that you may learn to master yourselves in the hope that, when the time should come that each of you is partnered, you will be able to master your dragon or wher and form a viable relationship. So, while I will not treat you as a number on the ledger, you will not find any leeway in the rules under my guidance. I must also caution you against trying to pull one over on Rivath, because the Whites always seem to have a way of knowing." They reached out to give her another pat on her neck, the act of which seemed to waken her from the state she'd been in previously and she turned her delicate head to peer at the gathering. "Now that we have introduced ourselves, we'll move on to the lesson. Rivath is smaller than most dragons here at Dalibor, much closer in size to your future newborn hatchlings or adult whers, and far more manageable a teacher of where dirt will accumulate. Where itching and dryness will occur fastest."

"One at a time please step forward and introduce yourself. Rivath will then tell you where you should wash or oil her. Be firm, and do not be afraid to handle her as you would any other large animal you might have worked with. Dragons and whers are very resilient and it's important for you to learn and understand how to touch and interact with them. Their wings are described as delicate, and difficult to heal if injured, but you'll come to find she could swing you in her membrane like a hammock and be none the worse for wear. She seems delicate and fragile, but like even the skinniest of whers you will discover both they and dragons have enormous strength. The ultimate goal in your interactions are to overcome any fears you might have, and find answers for any curiosities you may be harboring about your future hatchlings, so that when the time comes you'll be completely comfortable handling your own dragon or wher."

With that said Ulian stepped aside to give the Candidates ample room to move around the dragon while making themselves available for any questions they might have for them. Rivath, for her part, would be busy introducing them to all the odd parts of a dragon--and similarly a wher--that most non-Riders and non-Handlers (or those who hadn't grown up with them) would be least familiar with. Such as the creases that lay between her hind legs and the base of her tail that could drive a dragon mad from dryness. Or the narrow channels between her neckridges where dirt liked to cling after she'd worn a harness. The digits of her wingfingers could be particularly challenging to clean, and would be even more difficult on a young squirming hatchling. Where applicable she reminded Candidates if they weren't being firm enough, warned them if they were being too sharp on her delicate areas, and encouraged them to go digging for the recesses of her joints where they'd be chasing dirt and dry skin for the rest of their lives once their partner found them.

With linens properly stuffed into laundry - a chore they would probably have to do later in the day when it was a bit warmer - and furs beaten until lost some hair (though that may have been Belior's fluff) Xavinyra went an made her bed. She actually made her bed! It was a miracle! Last thing she wanted was for a white snout to come and demand smooth sheets. Not that they were smooth, but a perfectly tugged fur hid all that.

Sweeping was probably the worst of the chores. Belior had started to blow out her winter coat so there were dust bunnies everywhere. Xavinyra cursed under her breath on a constant basis as every stroke of her broom just caused more dust and fluff to appear. This was a chore she actually had to slow down to finish, lest there be something left behind. Ugh. Lastly she rearranged the papers and quills on her desk, making the mess look like it was intended to actually look like that. Her press was ignored - let Rivath figure out how to open that! - and so Xavinyra called her room complete. Done! Singly she had completed the work of two people. Take that, other Candidates.

Having already bathed last night to remove the grime of the stables, Xavinyra marched her way down the corridor to the general commons and then to the lake. She constantly moved during the lectures, either tapping her hand against her thigh, shifting from foot to foot, crossing her arms or letting them hang. The Candidate could not keep still. She couldn't help but smirk at a few of the less confident candidates at the thought of the danger they were in. Of course, her personal confidence covered her own concern for them. Xav couldn't help but have that bit of worry for the littlest of the candidates.

Back to the lecture. Time to pay attention. Leaning on each other - as long as they could keep up, Xavinyra thought. But if they were good enough for a dragon or wher, they were good enough to be relied on. There was no room for the weak, really. Not when there was Thread to fight, patrols to follow, and who knows what else. When they were released from lecture, Xavinyra was one of the first to step forward, giving Rivath a polite nod.

"My name is Xavinyra. Pleased to meet you," the Candidate said, reflexively reaching a hand out only to realize that there would not be a handshake with the White. Released to continue the lesson, she grabbed a brush and bucket, moving to the White's flank. When soft brushing, like one would use on a runner, wasn't quite enough, she put some muscle into washing the crease between wingsail and flank, doing her best to get all skin flakes and dust off.

Osario found herself clicking her tongue lightly when the white unceremoniously barged into her room. Her look was level with the white for a moment before she glanced at her side of the room. It wasn’t exactly dirty, persay. The young woman knew the value of cleaning. It was one of the lessons her mother had preached often. Cleanliness and order were cheif among her teachings. But even Osario had a few clothes strewn around when she was trying to put together outfits.She had to admit, though, she was not quite pleased by this breach of privacy. Could they at least knock? She wondered this, but held her tongue. There was no sense in upsetting the new candidate master or her dragon. So she took to picking up her clothes, pointedly not saying anything to her roommate. It was best to get this all done in silence. Clothes were brought to her bed and neatly folded, all crisp lines and smooth fabric, before being set in her trunk for future perusal. Osario would hum very softly to herself as she went to grab a broom. It was a song her mother would sing when it was time for them to tidy up the wagons of the caravan. She could remember the words very well, but didn’t trust her own singing voice. She was no harper, after all. Broom in hand she would return to her room, a slight sway to her hips as she sashayed around the room, not really sweeping all that well, mostly just dancing about the room and spreading dust around.--Oh. That made sense. Havenrute had a good idea! Sadly their room had become slightly speckled with Sethis’ usual grime. Flour. No matter how he tried to clean himself after working in the kitchens, the boy always found himself plagued by it like a natural snowy covering of glitter. As such that meant there were little flecks of it across the floor, his bed, and even handprints of it on the walls when he was too tired to bother with washing properly before falling into his bed.A broom was quickly grabbed as he scurried back in his room, not wanting to look like he was dallying any. He felt the white would not be good to provoke, even if he had never heard any of the rumors about her. Sethis didn’t want to provoke any wher or dragon. He at least knew what whers could do when angry.“I guess I should sweep since I made some of this mess.” He laughed softly. He didn’t mind cleaning. After all, he helped clean the kitchens often. His sweeping seemed better than Osario’s, though he had no song to sing. His mother, while attentive, was rarely where when it came time for him to clean as a weyrbrat. @Captain

An unknown voice trickled into his brain, at first working itself into a corner of his dream but suddenly resolving into something of the waking, not sleeping, world. Canterome sat upright in his bed with a start, not quite startled but finding that his heartbeat had ticked up, uncertain in sleep’s haziness whether it would be called upon to fight. He fought often, in his dreams. Or tried to but was beaten down regardless. But a moment’s wakefulness was enough to set him back to comfort—it only a new dragon, and he in a new bed, and there was no danger.

‘At least this one gives you warning before barging in,’ he thought as he rolled out from the covers, his head tilting each time Rivath’s voice piped up again after trailing off. He had not met the Candidatemaster yet, nor their dragon, and so set about wondering just what sort of person and dragon they happened to be while he followed the… instructions was a strong word, but he got the gist of what was needed as Rivath made rounds. By the time the White had reached his room—perhaps a temporary one, he knew he could not expect it to be just his for much longer, a roommate was nearly a guarantee—he was already up and changed into fresh robes, beginning to sort out his flight-crumpled belongings. It was not his first day at Dalibor Weyr, but it was close to it, and no one had thought to check the state of his hygiene before such a point. He did come to a full and sudden halt as the white nose, followed by its delicate head and whirling eyes, poked round the hanging. There was that elevated heart-rate again. But she wasn’t scary, and despite her size she was a mature and Bonded dragon, less dangerous by half than any canine or runner. Or so he assumed, for dragons were supposed to be harmless. Once Impressed. Canterome schooled his emotions back into confidence and bobbed his head politely at the White, not so bold as to reach for her, but clearly heeding her instructions. Though as she turned away to harass the next room over he was thinking that she was such a little dragon, and therefore not much use in the usual ways of her kind, surely.

He did tidy, though there was not as much for him to do as for most of the others, who had had longer to make a mess of things. Even so, it was a slapshod sort of effort, simply going down the checklist of requirements and doing the least amount possible to meet them. Washing himself involved only a few cursory passes with a damp rag, the new linens on his bed were not smoothed or tucked neatly. He didn't have to impress her. It was better to not call any especial attention until he knew the lay of the land better. So when he finished ahead of the others he simply waited, trying to look busy if he thought he heard her approach again. She didn’t bother to check so it didn’t really matter anyway. Her whisper of warning wasn’t worthy of an eyeroll, but he was no stranger to dragons. Sometimes they said things that couldn’t really be true. Sure, there were stories about how empathic Whites could be, but they were just stories. Probably.

Down to the lake they went like wherry chicks following their prancing mother. Canterome kept his expression carefully neutral, though if his eyes were followed it could be seen that he was looking over everyone, everything, with a pointed concentration. Already he was sizing the others up. Sorting them into categories. That one thought highly of himself. That one was shrinking, scared not so much by the White as by his fellows. That one was all business, no pleasure. And Canterome knew that he was younger than a great many of them. A small pang at that--he had had the advantage of having grown up with many of the Candidates at Ista Weyr. His reputation had preceded him. Here, he would have to rebuild that web of connections from scratch. The Candidatemaster was... he was not certain yet. They were exceedingly accomplished if nothing else, and it was a kindness that Ulian was so tall he thought, for the sheer volume of shoulder loops and knots would have been dwarfed them otherwise. And their androgyny was unsettling. It was unlike anything he had known up to that point, and defied categorization, and that was a problem. But he listened anyway, head canted to one side, expressions shifting light across his face. To Ulian and Rivath he would show only undivided attention. To a fellow Candidate that seemed to be looking antsy, he would give a knowing, subtle eyebrow raise, a Can you believe we have to sit through all this? kind of look. But then it was time for introductions, and though he would not go first, he had no intention of lagging. Slipping past the Candidates in front he dropped his head politely at Ulian and their White.

“I’m Canterome. I’m from Ista Weyr.” He lifted his chin a little at that, looking Ulian squarely in the eye, and well-aware that it displayed the two wicked scars on his face to most of the others. Most of them would likely know of the Hatching at Ista Weyr that had gone so horribly awry. He hoped it made him look tough to them, someone you didn’t mess with. His point made, he let his gaze slide away to Rivath and awaited her orders. Wherever it was that she required washing or oiling, she would find him a competent hand at it. She could have fit inside the wing of his father’s dragon. Her skin was more delicate, but other than being on an altogether much more manageable scale, she was not so very different.

The dragon's intrusion was met with a proper, if short, salute from Caelen; he certainly would do his best to get off on the right foot with this new Candidate Master. Especially, he figured, if Rivath would be taking the lead. The Dragons knew best, and if Rivath felt Caelen was a good and proper candidate...

Well, they would have to see.

"Do you have a preference on what parts you do?" Caelen asked Zaephor as he turned towards his roommate. A roommate he never quite gotten to know yet, despite the fact that Zaephor reminded him of his younger brother quite a bit. Caelen just had other things to worry about, and Zaephor had all his own. "If you want to sweep and dust, I'll do the scrubbing," the young man offered, remembering Rivath's comment about the grime between the toes. Who knew how much junk had been tracked into their room. All the better to get it out while they could. "Though I suppose bedding and chests should come first so we don't mop our way into a corner."

He shifted in his bed, Pepper hissing her displeasure as he dumped her from his chest and he grunted in response. A voice he hadn't heard before was chattering inside his mind and he rolled his eyes that words new candidatemaster's dragon was spewing out. Whites were weird. As if he'd let his room get to be as disgusting as the dragon assumed. Not everyone was a slacker in this barracks. He stretched before running a finger across Pepper's cheek earning him a purr.

The little cyan firelizard was a sweetheart... Mostly. He'd found she was far too possessive of him though he couldn't fault her for that. She had bonded him and considered him her own. He chuckled and moved to swing out of the bed before the white could make her way to dump him from his bed. A tickle against his own cheek had him searching for the source and his brows dumped into a frown when he pulled a long length of hair away from his neck.

"Ug," he whispered to himself before glancing at his roommate. The roommate that sat brushing the ridiculous amounts of hair he possessed. At least he was lucky enough to have a roommate who was just as rigid when it came to cleanliness as he was. "Don't why he can't go do that somewhere else," he continued under his breath. Miridan's own hair was short and almost reserved in it's cut. He'd never have hair longer than a woman's and he didn't really understand the need for it.

He grinned when Ky warned Rivath away from him and slid a pair of pants up his long legs. Turning he signaled Pepper to her place on his shoulder and made his bed, the corners military crisp and the furs straight. Sighing as he lifted another length of black hair off his shoulder he cut a glare at Ky before taking himself out of the room and down to the lake with the rest of the candidates. He almost laughed out loud when he realized they'd be bathing Rivath. Apparently the dragon was going to get several baths today, she was barely bigger than a tall runner and it wouldn't take many to give her a good bath. Miridan was of a mind that maybe that was the plan.

He listened with half an ear to most of what Ulian was saying, Miridan was no stranger to the weird areas of most large animals and had no trouble figuring out how to lay a brush against a hide, he stepped forward to introduce himself and got to work allowing Rivath to give him pointers here or there.

@RhiaBlack (You don't have to reply to any of that, just letting you know)

Cleaning. Ah, how dull. Yet as Candidates, they did a spectacular amount of it. Zeph watched the new Candidatemaster with an easy smile twitching upon his lips, though his mismatched gaze was dull, lacking their usual humor. He knew how to clean long before he was Searched. Sons of drudges knew all sorts of practical things, like how to best mop up wine from stone before it stained or how to keep out of sight when certain folk were on the prowl for trouble. But just because he knew how to clean and spent both his youth and his Candidacy doing much of it, did not mean he anticipated it. He stretched as Rivath left the room, rising from his bed with feline languidness. It wouldn't do to show weakness around a dragon like that. Whites were notorious for sensing things they shouldn't. With a mindhealer as a bondmate, hiding certain insecurities that welled up in the past Turn would be difficult.

Zeph sighed and yanked the sheet from his bed.

"Linens first. Floor last. We're just going to dirty the floor again if we start sweeping now," he said, gathering the fabric in gloved hands. He smirked at his roommate. "Isn't this thrilling?"

Though the girls had hardly met their reactions were the same: a low groan. Why were they being woken so early - and by an unfamiliar voice? Neither Orissa nor Camille were weyrbred and the act of having another voice enter their mindspace was foreign. At times it was downright startling. Of the two on this particular morning, Orissa seemed to handle it far better, barely twitching where in the other room Camille gave a jump. Chuckling it off in hopes her roommate hadn’t noticed she slipped out of bed after stretching, looking around to see what spring cleaning actually needed to be done. Neither of them spent much time in the room outside of sleeping, at least that’s how it seemed. The other girl was older and had been doing this far longer than she had - she kept her area of the room clean, Cami liked to think she did as well.

Still she went to work doing as the white bid them to do, tensing ever so slightly when the white wandered in and got a bit close. While she had only heard rumors of the white’s past discretions she had seen what the white bore to the world in the last hatching. A shiver ran the length of her spine as she recalled the red hatchling. Dusting, putting the dirty linen aside then remaking her bed, sweeping… soon enough she was done with her tasks and heading out to the weyrbowl where they were bade to follow.

Orissa finished cleaning, too… just a bit later than the other candidate. Rather than having a single roommate she shared a living space with two others which meant more space to clean. They weren’t dirty by any means but they were younger and sometimes things were missed. Not on purpose and she knew that so she wasn’t upset, it just meant taking some extra time to make sure everything was tidy and put away. She helped where it was needed with changing the linens and sweeping, taking all of their laundry out with hers so the other two girls didn’t have to. By the time she joined the other candidates in the ‘bowl there was a bead of sweat at her hairline threatening to roll down her forehead at any second. Smiling to the others as she found a spot to stand so she could hear Ulian she hung on every word their Candidatemaster offered.

Likewise Camille was listening, intently. Growing up outside of the walls of any Weyr this was an entirely new world to her. Shifting through the group of candidates slowly oh so slowly she eventually found herself next to Havenrute and offered him a supportive smile. Things were good when he was around, it was a whole lot less scary knowing she had her best friend with her. Watching as others made their way up to introduce themselves to the white and wash her she stayed back, observing so she wouldn’t mess something up when it was her turn. Orissa was nervous but put on a brave face and made her way into the small line, soon finding herself face to face with Rivath. Nodding politely - that’s something one should do, right? - she smiled, “Um hello, I’m Orissa. My father’s a dragonrider here you know, his name is S’vor.” Rambling nervously she picked up the supplies, “Where is it you feel itchy?”

Letting the white guide her movements she began scrubbing the indicated areas really well, touching the dragon as though she were made of thin clay despite the Candidatemaster’s earlier assurances that she was not as delicate as she appeared. Finally the area was washed thoroughly and she moved to oiling, trying desperately to be quick yet not rushed. She wanted to commit this lesson to heart - she’d not been around long enough yet to actually lay hands on a dragon and wash it. The only other dragon she’d touched was her father’s green, and she hadn’t been too happy about the whole thing. Working the oil in with a rag and then her fingers she continued on until she was told she’d done an adequate job, moving aside to let the next candidate go.

She couldn’t stall forever, and really there was no reason for her to be stalling. She’d been close to a few dragons already since coming to Dalibor even if she hadn’t been able to wash any of them. Still it couldn’t be that hard, she’d watched some of the much younger candidates do it as if it were second nature. Then again… they were weyrbred weren’t they? Giving Havenrute a grin she hurried up to the white and gave a short bow, much like she’d done when she’d seen the white at her hatching. “Hello there miss Rivath, my name’s Camille.” Picking up the brush she tilted her head this way and that, craning her neck some to look for an area that wasn’t already sleek and shiny with oil. “They didn’t take all the best spots, did they?”

Ah but while she was small there was plenty left and she took to washing the areas when they were pointed out. Sweetsand and brush went to work against the hide, which she touched a bit too lightly at first but soon grew bolder. At one point she even poked the white’s hide with a bit of force just to test out how true Ulian’s words had been. Not that she thought they had lied to the candidates but well, hadn’t she heard before that dragons were sensitive creatures? Maybe that was in her head. Finding that the white didn’t break under the pressure of her finger (not that she had expected her to) she used more pressure while scrubbing which helped the whole thing move along a tad quicker. By the end of the washing she was smiling brightly, casting a look over her shoulder at Havenrute to mouth at him, ’Look at me, with a dragon!’ Sometime soon she hoped to have her own dragon, and to see him with one as well. Surely that was in the cards for them… why else would they have been Searched if not to Impress? Yet she knew her roommate had been a candidate for turns. Would that be her fate? A decade or more of standing? Not that she had quite that long before she’d age out… Biting her bottom lip she set the cleaning tools aside and picked up a pot of oil so she could add another sleek spot to the white’s hide. Working it into all the nooks and crannies of the area she had washed she took time once she was finished oiling the white to touch her wing membranes. Running her fingers over them she followed one to the outer edge of her wing in order to feel that area too. Remembering herself she gave a sheepish grin, “Sorry about that, thank you for helping to teach me and letting me wash and oil you.” With that she stepped aside so she could watch the other candidates take their turns.

It had been a season since her discussion with Al'dr about giving up her place as a candidate and ever since, she had gone back to helping with the herders and farmers. It was from her position assisting the men and women that she looked across the bowl at the white dragon squeezing herself into the Candidate barracks. By all accounts she should be there and yet she had given up. At least the memory was fading. Kirryl felt so weak and foolish every time she thought about it. She turned her attention back to the hole she was digging, looking away from the white dragon.

Ditre was being awful too, making fun of her when Kire wasn't paying attention. Sometimes she wished she were just a little more violent then she would hit her younger brother. For now, though, she had to content herself with her imagination. Speak of the wherry, she thought watching her brother approach. "Did I see Rivath go into the barracks?" He asked casually"Yes."She continued her work, not looking at him. The young boy observed her a moment and then shrugged. "Maybe when the lesson's over I'll go ask Ulian if I can start being a candidate." Kirryl looked up at him. An innocent but determined expression was on his face. In spite of their differences, she didn't want to see him get hurt at the hatching. "You've never really talked about Standing," she replied. "Maybe not to you." She pursed her lips and then looked over at the barracks again. "Well, do what you want. Have you told mum yet?""I don't have to ask her permission." His tone was defiant.

Was he doing it just to upset her? She couldn't see his mind and so she couldn't tell what was on his heart and how she wished he were more transparent. He paused looking as though he was about to say something and then turned on his heel, walking with purpose in the direction of the barracks.

She might not get along well with him all the time, but they were siblings and she did care for him. Almost immediately she became worried. What if he was harmed just as Siinari was. The image of the death passed through her mind this time Siin's body was replaced with her brother's.

She couldn't stand. Not again. So she kept working, brow furrowed with concern, occasionally glancing to where her brother stood at the entrance to the barracks.

Her new roommate was nothing like Eryonthi had been. The only similarity was that Caliska had a canine, and Thi had had Silmaug, her icehowler. To say that Lia had been feeling lonesome and down since Thi had bonded was a little bit of an understatement. She was adult enough, obviously, to have expected it might happen. It didn't necessarily make it easy. It was never really easy, especially when considering just how many hatchings Lia had been to and not bonded. How difficult she seemed to find it to make friends. She was often told she was 'too mature' in her behavior, and too concerned with being responsible and doing things right. Also that she was bossy, snobby, critical and judgmental. She certainly didn't agree with any of those things...but she'd be lying to herself if she disregarded the last two entirely. She never meant to seem bossy. Yet how was anyone supposed to learn or better themselves if left to do a thing improperly, or allowed to simply not carry their weight? How was a person to know the truth unless someone spoke it? If she was critical of someone else, she was doubly so of herself. She didn't slack off, and didn't hold anyone to any standards she didn't set for herself. Plus, Thi had taken her words for what they were--honest and meant to be helpful. With her one and only friend having bonded, she had no one she really knew well here. She hadn't spoken much to Caliska, even though the young woman had also been a candidate awhile.

She wasn't a heavy sleeper at all, so when the new and intrusive mindvoice entered her head, she sat up with a start, looking around in alarm. It wasn't time to be up yet, was it? She felt she'd barely even slept! Yet someone had woken them--was that...a dragon's voice? Even in her half awake state, she managed to grasp that the voice was indeed that of a dragon. But whose? Wait...was the dragon actually insisting that all the candidates learn dragon anatomy and wash her...? Whose dragon was this? Not a voice she knew, and she was a wher candidate--not a dragon candidate. She pushed back the fur that had covered her slowly, expression a mask of confusion. Was something amiss?

"What's on Pern..." This was quietly said, a question half to herself, before the shutters were suddenly opened and light flooded the room. She hadn't seen Rivath stick her head in, and swung her feet over the edge of the bed, the cold floor awakening her even more. Caliska was tossing her bedding to the floor, and seemed to be getting up. Were they actually going to do as the dragon instructed, then? She frowned, but got out of bed, removed her own bedding and added it to the pile, and glanced at Caliska. "That was a dragon? Why are we being woken by a dragon? That wasn't Zansk. And dragon anatomy and washing...?" The questions were tentative, but clear. Lia didn't understand why they were being woken at this candlemark to join the dragon candidates in learning dragonrider things. What of wher anatomy and wher washing? That was what wher candidates did. Not, mind, that she was at all lazy or one to complain. Nor would she scorn learning something new, even if it wasn't something they, as wher candidates, were supposed to be learning--at least by her estimation. Just who was that dragon, besides? That hadn't been a male dragon, so not Al'dr's...and then it clicked. They were supposed to get a new Candidatemaster. A new dragon Candidatemaster. Yet that had little to do with the wher candidates, still...did this new dragon not realize that, perhaps?

She agreed with Caliska. They had their own schedule to follow, and as fastidious as Lia was, her things were in pristine order. Everything was in its place, and nothing amiss at all. There was legitimately hardly anything to clean, so far as she was concerned. True, the canine that shared their rooms shed some. Yet Lia had been sweeping each evening without ever even mentioning it to Caliska. She had done it when she roomed with a far bigger icehowler, and had little issue doing so now. It was not like her roommate was messy, either. Lia changed her bedding each sevenday as all candidates were required to do, too. Why did this dragon feel the need to be ordering them to do this kind of cleaning at this hour, or at all? She pursed her lips, and watched Caliska give her canine an order, which it obeyed, and walk out of the room. She sighed, and got dressed, feeling uncertain and a little uneasy. Sleep was something hard come by, and important. Couldn't the dragon have made it more convenient for the wher candidates, like Caliska had suggested? This would throw her whole sleep schedule, and day, off.

As she waited for Caliska to return, she looked around the room, blue eyes blinking sleepily. Picking up the pile of bedding, she brought it out into the corridor, and added it to the large basket that the drudges would take away to be washed before bringing back fresh linens and furs. Then, she walked back to the room, and tidied what little there was to tidy. She swept, and dusted off the dressers and cleaned the mirrors. Glancing at the floors, which she scrubbed once a sevenday as well, she decided to forgo that. They'd been done a mere three days ago. When she was done, she added the canine's furs to the pile, for better measure, and then exited to follow the rest of the candidates out the lake. Once there, it became apparent why they were all called--but not why it was the new dragon candidatemaster giving all of them a lesson---until the difficulty of her dragon was addressed. Well...that made sense. She didn't need the lecture, since what she was being told, she already knew. All of it. As long as she'd been Standing, she knew just about everything that might be taught them. She had no fear of Rivath. She had had experiences with...unruly or odd...whers and dragons before. So, she walked up when it was her turn, and politely made her introduction.

Basiliare, from Benden. Where should I scrub and oil?" Her tone was respectful and polite, and there was no fear in it. She had heard of Rivath and Ulian--most had in the Weyr. Last flight, Rivath had killed a grey suitor. Her hatchling, a red, had apparently not only mauled a few people, but eaten part of a Healer's hand. Yet she trusted Ulian, outside of flightlust, had her dragon under control. She secretly thought it was not under enough, if a dragon was allowed to behave as Rivath did in a flight. To kill another dragon was horrific and beyond out of control, in the young woman's mind. Yet it wasn't her problem, and wasn't her dragon, and wasn't her place to say so. If anything, it would be downright disrespectful--which she was not. There was no point to it. It would serve no purpose. Change nothing. If she thought it might...well, who knew?

@Ruin, OPENMalika was exhausted. Another long day and a hard evening in the forge saw the young woman physically worn at the end of each day. She had adjusted to her schedule and accounted for the time needed to sleep. While it was a given that unexpected things might happen, she had not accounted for waking to see the face of a white dragon in her doorway. Blinking sleepily, she mumbled, "Mayhaps my own eyes do deceive me..." She rolled over, and closed her eyes...but the voice of the small white did not stop, and she groaned. "By Rukbat, it is going to be a difficult day!" She lamented, sitting up with eyes half lidded, rubbing them gingerly to rid them of sleep. Bare feet slapped the stone floor, hardly noting the cold. She was so tired, and it was not even the hour that they were supposed to be up! Perhaps the dragon had made an error and poked its head into the wrong room. She stuck her head out the door, her brows furrowing as she saw fellow wher candidates depositing linens and furs into baskets the drudges would take away to be cleaned. Truly they could not all be meant to be up at the same hour?

Yet it seemed there was nothing for it. She would not disgrace herself by going back to bed whilst all others were up and cleaning. No matter how bone weary she was. Walking over to the basin, she used the fresh water she put aside each night to first wash her face and then clean her teeth, before getting dressed and removing the bed linens and furs, adding them to the baskets outside, and returning to her room. They were to clean, were they? Well, she was not a dirty person, as cleanliness was important to her. Still, she admitted it could not hurt to give a thorough clean. She was neat enough, but deep cleaning was still something she could work on. She grew up in a caravan, where, while her grandparents made sure things were kept orderly so as to make a good reflection on oneself and not invite disease--and also so they themselves would be clean--at the Weyr it seemed cleaning was done far more often than it had been. They had slept in caves and under tents and makeshift shelters much of the time. There were no floors to scrub, and the furs were washed half as often, as there was not so easy the opportunity to do so while traveling the familiar paths.

She worked quietly, tiredly. Why they must wash and oil this dragon, she did not know. Still, if a superior gave you an order, it was best to follow it. A part of her stubbornly wanted to question it, as lack of sleep made her spirits irritable. Yet she decided the wiser course of action would be to wait and see, lest she somehow shame herself. It was for the best that she did, as they were instructed to join the strange woman and her white by the lake. The weather was warming, and Rukbat felt good on her skin. Dark as it was, it absorbed the warm rays hungrily. She listened quietly, trying her best to remain attentive. She could have fallen asleep standing, tired as she was, but would never allow such an embarrassment as that. What the white haired woman said made much sense. She had both heard and seen the truth of those words. Content as she was to refrain from breaking any of the rules, they bothered the dark eyed young woman not at all. She had a goal, and it was far more important to her than the things she was forbade to do. It was not like she was wont to drink or bed people, frittering about and flirting with everything that moved. She had seen others who would gladly make eyes at not just one, but many of the men and woman, boys and girls, who lived in this place--no matter if they were candidate or handler--or rider. She did not think their lack of self control a flattering component of their personalities. She was glad it was not a part of her own. A woman grown she was. The people of her caravan considered one a woman when one was sixteen, and by eighteen, truly all the more so. She had been such for a few turns, now. She did well to control any hormonal urges, and would not allow herself to view a person in that light until she was bonded and graduated. She kept so busy that she would not have time for such things, besides.

When it was her turn in line, after sleepily waiting and staring out over the lake, Malika approached the dragonet. Her gait and expression did not betray that she felt a little wary of the creature. Whites had a way of knowing? That had been the woman's words. Did these ones read the minds of people, then? It was a discomforting feeling, to think that anyone or anything might do that. Her mind was her sanctuary. She did not feel particularly comforted thinking that this creature might know the workings of it. All her hopes, and her insecurities. She had nothing to hide--not really. She was an honorable person, who did her best to be all that her grandparents might be proud of. Still, no soul should like such a thing, she believed. It was with wariness in her heart she approached. For that reason, and, too, because what had this Ulian meant by 'difficult'? Then, through her sleepiness, she realized the name of the dragon had been given. Rivath.

Fear was not an emotion she allowed herself to give leeway to. In truth, she did not really fear the white. She simply respected that which was a potential danger, and could do much harm if allowed. Ulian had said to trust her, and yet Rivath was known for being as violent as a red, was she not. Her face grew hot with shame at that thought. Her grandparents had always taught that if one wished to know a thing about a person--or dragon, or wher, it was all one and the same--one should never listen to gossip. That it was most honorable and right to ask that person--or in this case dragon and rider--the truth of the matter. All stories had two sides. Ulian said that they would get to know her dragon, and that they should trust her. Malika would do her best to do just this, for it was the right of it.

"I am called Malika. I hail from the caravan of Malik and Mablevi--they are my grandparents. It is an honor to meet you, Candidatemaster Ulian, and Rivath. Please instruct me, and I will be grateful for the knowledge you impart." The dark skinned woman bowed formally, awaiting their instructions on where she might oil or scrub the white. Up close, Mali was surprised to see how small the white was in comparison to her kin. Still, size did not mean anything so far as ferocity went. Whers were certainly smaller than dragons, and often twice as fierce and dangerous. One must never judge a thing by outward appearances.

Taylei woke up, wide eyed and in a state of near terror. The voice in her mind...she recognized it. That had been the voice that had called her and the other candidates to the sands not so long ago. What was Rivath doing in the barracks? And, as if to heighten her fear further, the one and same dragon suddenly appeared in the doorway to her room. Clutching her furs to her chest, heart racing, Tay tried to absorb the words being spoken. Why was the white in the barracks, ordering them all to clean? Wait...clean and oil her? Was this a bad dream, or something?

Of all the dragons, Taylei feared reds most. Yet, if she had to pick a dragon besides Akashath she feared, it would be the one that had borne her egg. Rivath, the white who was simply not quite right. Who had killed a suitor and maimed others. Even her own red daughter had fled from before her, and Tay had thought her a terrifying sight to behold on those sands that day. Rivath was not a dragon who made the blond candidate feel comfortable, safe, or pleasant. Rivath in the barracks did nothing pleasant for her psyche. She scrambled out of bed to comply with the white's orders--there was no way she was asking questions! She was usually an early riser, so this wasn't something that affected her too negatively on that end. She saw sleepy wher candidates joining them, some looking none too happy. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she suddenly froze as Rivath's instructions completed: wash me. Oh shards...no. She didn't really have to do that, did she? Her eyes went wide, and she wondered if she might be able to simply hide somewhere after her cleaning was done. Yet wouldn't the white simply sniff her out?

Ever since the last hatchings, she had been alone in the room she was supposed to share with Kirryl. It was saddening, since she would have preferred the other girl's companionship to being alone--and especially at this moment. She only had her own things, now, and that had resulted in quite a lot of clutter. She was an artist, and there were a lot of stacks of drawings and art supplies all over the top of the dresser and her small desk, as well as things in the corner of the room...organized chaos. Clutter that was not precisely dirty, but not looking very neat. She also tended to pile dirty laundry in one corner, until she needed to do it so she'd have clothes once again. She at least hung and put away clean clothes neatly so they wouldn't wrinkle. She opened up the shutters and wondered if she might escape out the window somehow. She had dressed and freshened up, and her mind was racing. Why was Ulian's dragon here? Then a thought struck her; a thought she didn't like at all. Al'dr had gone, and a spot had opened up for another candidatemaster. What if...what if Ulian had taken it? Could she, since she was a Master and had her own work already in the infirmary? Wouldn't that swamp her? Tay realized this was a lot of very hopeful wishing on her part. She just couldn't picture Rivath being around the barracks all the time--of course her mind rushed to 'all the time', because that was the most scary outcome.

She was so nervous that she worked even faster at cleaning than she normally might have. Which put her following behind the rest of the candidates, feeling like her feet were made of lead. She was normally very happy and chipper and bubbly. Yet it was hard to be so when she was terrified of having to face a dragon she acquainted with horrible violence and fear. Rumor had it that Rivath was 'off', and the way she'd spoken to them all...Tay now believed it had perhaps been more than rumor. In her flight she'd done some pretty terrible things--including killing one of her suitors. She'd definitely heard about that. If she could kill another dragon...who was to say her rider was capable of stopping her should she want to harm one of them?

Cool it, Tay. They would hardly let Master Ulian be Candidatemaster if they thought there was a risk of that...would they? She argued this with herself as she made her way to the lake. She didn't, for once, want anywhere near a dragon. She loved dragons, and she felt bad for being unable to feel all warm and fuzzy about the white...who would have otherwise been really lovely and maybe even cute, were she a normal white, in Tay's mind. Yet she was now in a line, and that line was shortening far too rapidly. Should she excuse herself and say she had to use the latrine or something? She could do that, couldn't she? She was getting too near, and began to panic some. She quietly stepped aside, and, trying to be careful not to draw attention, went a few more candidates further back. She was breathing rather unsteadily, arguing with herself. Ulian's speech about trusting her did little to calm her fears. Had the Master Mindhealer been able to keep her dragon from killing that other one? Clearly not. If Rivath knew she was fearful, would she be angry with her and lash out? A dragon could move awful fast before anyone could stop it, couldn't it? Before she knew it, there was only one person in front of her--and then none.

For a moment, she didn't move. She just stood there, staring at the new Candidatemaster and her--for she wasn't aware that Ulian might prefer 'their or they'--dragon. Once she realized that she was standing rooted to the spot, color rushed into her face. It was quite noticeable considering her fair complexion, to say the least. She tried for words, but managed to make a muddle of them.

"T-Taylei! Crescent Hold, er, Mindhealer but not now. N-not that I don't want to be! I want to be a dragonrider Mindhealer--artist! I guess you did that already. But not the artist part?" She could feel how hot her face was. She still hadn't moved even so much as a step towards Rivath.

Varen was still working on getting herself settled into her new life in the weyr, it was strange, to say the least. She didn't mind the additional people so much, as long as she did not have to bother with them very often. The chores also didn't bother her as much as it did some, but that was mainly because she liked to lose herself in work, she actually preferred the chores to having to socialize unnecessarily. She didn't even mind the small spaces they were given to stay and sleep in when they weren't doing chores or in class.

What she did mind was the random voice in her head of the Candidatemaster's dragon. It wasn't so much that she minded it as opposed to her just not being used to it. She supposed it made sense, for the dragon to broadcast to all of them whenever they were needed, but it always seemed so...intrusive. Okay, and it startled the shells out of her, always making her jump just a little.

She had been sitting on her bunk, cross-legged with one of her hammers on her lap, cleaning it, when Rivath's voice did what it always did, startled her and made her jump. She lifted a brow at the initial comments then shook her head and went back to cleaning her hammer. It wasn't that she was purposefully ignoring the dragon, but she hadn't really said why she was calling out to them so she saw no point in stopping what she was doing just that moment. Until the white nose came poking through the hanging that was the door to her room. She quirked a slight smile, wondering how on Pern the dragon, even at her size, was fitting down the hallways without getting herself stuck.

Ugh. She didn't really want to clean, but she supposed she didn't have much of a choice, considering that was the task provided to them and then chores. Wasn't cleaning a chore anyway? She slid herself off her bunk and put her hammer and maintenance kit away in her chest where she kept things that weren't clothes, then set about stripping her bed, since it was the easiest of the things to do. Her laundry was already clean, save what she was currently wearing and she had only just put those on that morning. She wasn't changing again, not until she was done with whatever cleaning was to be done that day, she didn't own enough clothing for that. She paused when she had stripped her own and looked at the unused upper bunk with a slightly narrowed eyed frown. She hadn't bothered to ask if the unused bunk would need to be made, it wasn't currently and she didn't see the point in wasting sheets on a bed that wasn't being used currently, so she ignored it.

She piled her own bedsheets in the corner then went down the hall to get clean sheets, waiting her turn to get into the supply closet. Once back in her room she made her bed quickly enough then set about cleaning the rest of her room, including beating the dust out of the unused mattress. She wasn't about to make it, but she didn't want all the dust from it either. Sometime later she had her room completely clean, including the corners she never went into. Her linen was deposited to be cleaned and she had washed up before going outside with the rest of the candidates, most of whom she still didn't know all of the faces to names. None of that mattered, however, well not much, as they were all there to learn, not necessarily make friends with everyone around them.

Once at the lake she stood off to the side, eyeing the other candidates and the white dragon that stood beside her rider. The speech given was not one that started off making her feel all that great, but then again, at least they were not being misled and given false pretenses. She respected that. As she continued to listen she let her gaze drift back to the small white dragon. She hadn't the faintest clue about dragon anatomy and so was very carefully looking the little white over. It was true, to her anyway, that the wings of the smaller dragons did appear fragile, but if she thought about it logically, they couldn't be that fragile to haul their bodies into the air, right? A few other things ran through her mind, things that she was sure would be taught soon enough.

For the time being, however, the task at hand was to learn how to wash and oil a dragon. This was going to be...interesting, considering she had never had any kind of pet so she had no clue how to bathe anything but herself. She wasn't exactly the last in line, but she had been in no true rush either. Not exactly scared, but nervous definitely. She had only ever been this close to one other dragon and it had carried her here.

When she stepped forward to introduce herself she gave both the Candidatemaster and Rivath short bows, respectful but not overdoing it, at least she didn't think so. "I am, Varen, Apprentice Smith, originally from High Reaches Hold." True enough that her Apprenticeship was on hold, but she was, in her mind, still an apprentice. "I look forward to learning from you both, as I know nothing of dragons I am sure that will be quite a lot." There was no smile on her face as she spoke but her words were honest and her tone light. She was ready to get to work and waited for further instruction so she could do just that.

Nari had been up bright and early as she had always been. She was doing light work that she could do in her room rather than down in her work space. She was already dressed, the white tunic was under her leather one that made it so much easier to work in. She wasn't exactly startled at the voice in her mind, having gotten just used to the pictures from the flitts constantly in there. But it was a little alarming at first. She made a face and set down her work. What however did startle her was the much larger than she was used to white face shoving it's way into her room. She nearly fell over at the sudden thing there.

Tanner her bronze flit was at the white's face squirming and squwaking like an angry bird. Protective and fickle little beast he was. Nari was quick to grab him and pull him back before he got her into trouble. He was a little terror at times. The commotion was quick to stir the little pink Suede who was clamoring up and all over Nari, rubbing against her and climbing onto her head. Nari grabbed the little brat who just loved the attention and shoved her into a leather satchel and set her to her side otherwise she would get nothing done. She though, reached out cautiously to touch the white head of Rivath. She had the flitts and that was fine, but the white was so much larger and totally different from the one who had brought her to the Weyr. Just as obnoxious as that blue that had claimed her as his candidate.

She gently patted the white's head, the feeling so familiar that it made her smile a little, and she frowned, catching herself in that. She shook her head and began to task of cleaning. She kept her space as clean as possible, but with the work she had done earlier there was a bit of a mess. That and the cold winter having made some things impossible to clean, there was that as well.

Beds beaten out, linens done afresh, clothes washed, and then herself she was treading outside where the white explained she would wash her. Tanner the bronze flitt was angry with the idea, and showed her such, he didn't want her to touch another besides him, and his little pink that was his protect. She frowned and shoved him away, offering a few meat rolls if he calmed down and let her be. It was easy enough to bribe the little bronze.

Her siblings were here, both Varen and Navanex and she frowned at them in both directions. She turned her attention to the Canidatemaster as they spoke, listening intently. If there was anything that Nari was it was studious. It came her turn and she approached the White. "Hello Rivath, I am Nari, a Journeyman Tanner, as well as Candidate." She said firmly. Her business face was on, pleasant as can be, even if the woman was anything but for the most part. She began then the scrubbing, having worked with hides for so long she knew well how to handle it. Dragon hide was different, but not so much that it was horrible. She saw it as a new experience and when corrected she did so with a nod. She even began to smile as she worked. There was nothing she loved more than work, and being so near the dragon gave her a joy she didn't know she could feel.

Zanii had to admit, she was more than a little curious about how Ulian and Rivath would fulfill their role as Candidatemaster. She had heard the rumors - it was a Candidatemaster's job to have eyes and ears everywhere - about the peculiar white, but she didn't put much stock into them. After all, it didn't matter what Rivath used to be like, only what she was like now. People changed - Zanii herself was a fine example of that - and dragons did too. If anything, the change in character proved just how much influence Ulian had on the white, a testament to the healer's skills. A Mindhealer would certainly come in handy considering the stresses imposed upon many of the candidates' still growing minds. Zanii and Zansk did their best when it came to listening to their young charges' thoughts, but what did they know in comparison to a Master Healer? Surely not enough.

The wher Candidatemaster, though sleepy, had on a bright smile as she passed through the common room. "Good day," she greeted each candidate that crossed her path. Her wher candidates - unused to the day time - were given an especially sympathetic look. While Zanii was well-known for her unceasing reserves of energy, she knew not everyone was so lucky. She would have to see to it that they got their proper rest later. As for now, perhaps an order of klah would do? Drudges were everywhere, all she had to do was make a request. But not here. It seemed like the woman had missed most of the cleaning action; no matter. The next part of the lesson had yet to begin down at the lake.

For the most part, Zanii was content to blend into the background like her wher, silent yet attentive. This was Ulian and Rivath's stage after all - she was just there to be a friendly familiar face if any of her candidates sought out one. Zansk was there too, slinking at the edges of the gathered crowd, his mind seeking out any candidate who seemed panicked or nervous.'In time, become sec-ond nature. No think, just oil.'